This is Not a Love Story
by TheLastofUs
Summary: Arthur swears he's not in love with Alfred, so don't take this story- "KISS ME!"- the wrong way. *USUK Fluff*


Arthur swears he's not in love with Alfred, so don't take this story the wrong way. It's in no way shape or form a love story. A story of friendship, perhaps. But love? Maybe that's a bit far. Arthur is not, never was, and never will be in love. It just isn't possible.

So now that we understand each other, I can tell you this story without any bumps in the road.

It's simple really. A simple setting, a simple date, and a simple man. All but the fact that Alfred was anything but simple.

Arthur and Alfred had been best friends since the beginning of time. Both living in a small town in the United States of America, and Arthur grew up wishing to be in England instead. He had even learned their accent just for the day he could move away to live there.

Alfred grew up wanting to be a hero.

And they were simple dreams for simple children of age ten. They sufficed their imaginations and drove them to find their aspirations.

By middle school they had already formed their own little groups as well as personalities. Alfred had gravitated towards the popular kids with Hollywood smiles and model bodies. Arthur had found solitude by himself or perhaps (if he was lucky) in the presence of another lonesome soul. But that's how they preferred it to be.

They hung out some times, but overall, they had started to grow distant.

Not that Arthur cared—not at all. It was just part of life, and he knew this.

Which is why days like these irritated him. He was seventeen now, and Alfred was a few months behind him, turning seventeen in the summer.

Arthur sat in his room with a load of homework to do. He wasn't one to procrastinate, but he honestly couldn't think about anything at the moment. Since when had he gotten so wrapped up in his thoughts? It wasn't his fault at all. It was Alfred's.

They haven't spoken to each other properly in four years.

Had it really been that long?

With heavy limbs, Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and gazed up at the ceiling where a flag was mounted. The United Kingdom flag.

He still had his dream, and only wondered if Alfred still had his.

His eyes drifted lazily to his bedside table with a jar labeled "_SAVINGS_." He'd saved just enough money to fly to England his graduating year, and from then, it'd be a fresh start. He'd be gone just like that.

It was a bit scary to think about, but he was going to do it.

However there was a part of him that held him back; a part he always tended to ignore. It was nothing after all. It was weakness. It was holding him back from his dreams, and he wished so badly to make them a reality.

And so that's how Arthur found himself sitting in the middle of his bedroom, reminiscing about his aspirations, completely unaware of a grinning mother on the other side of the door.

You know, until she opened it.

"Arthur!" she exclaimed, grinning as wide as the continent. "Guess who I brought over for a play date?"

"Mom, I'm seventeen, I don't go to 'play dates' any…" Arthur's voice trailed off as his eyes shifted to the second figure in the doorway. "…more."

"Well, I figured you two haven't talked for a while and so I called over and Alfred's mom said the same thing! Why don't you two catch up?"

That's who it was. Alfred F. Jones.

He stood awkwardly, half-in, half-out of the doorway. His hair had grown a bit longer since Arthur last remembered, and he seemed to have adapted an almost cocky grin, even though he wasn't smiling at the moment. It just _looked_ like if his teeth were to show behind his stretched lips, it'd look arrogant. You are who you're with, Arthur supposed.

Alfred was pushed into the room and the door closed behind him. Arthur's mother had hummed while walking off, calling over her shoulder that she'd be up with snacks in a bit.

"Make yourself at home I guess," Arthur grumbled and pulled out a book he'd finished a few weeks ago. Looks like he had some rereading to do.

Alfred sighed, sitting sloppily next to him on the bed as there were no other seating arrangements. Arthur could feel the bed sink down and tried to ignore the man sitting next to him. Curse his mom for doing something like this… If only he could brush up on his spells, perhaps he could put the phrase literally.

"You look different," it was Alfred who first broke the silence.

Arthur's eyes flickered curiously to the man next to him before darting back to his book. Why was his heart beating so quickly?

"So do you," he said stoically.

Alfred's laughter was harmonious and it sounded like birds.

"I guess it has been a while," Alfred said.

It was too obvious he was just trying to make some conversation. Why, Arthur hadn't the slightest clue. They were separate people and they were no longer connected. He didn't want anything to do with him. Tomorrow, Alfred would be back playing with his usual friends and none of this would mean a thing.

"It has," was all Arthur had responded with.

"You're still as boring as before, though."

Arthur narrowed his eyes and glanced irritated at Alfred. Where had that come from, honestly? This was getting too obnoxious for Arthur's taste and he wished the window was open she he could shove Alfred out of it.

"How so?" Arthur asked with a seething tone.

The forefinger of Alfred's hand flicked the cover of Arthur's book.

"You're reading."

"And that makes me boring?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Duh," Alfred had said in the same annoying tone as before.

"Well you're just as obnoxious as I remember," Arthur retorted.

Alfred frowned. "Obnoxious? Me?"

And Arthur didn't respond.

This whole "play date" was getting annoying way too quickly. He hadn't remembered just how childlike Alfred was until now—though perhaps it was justifiable because of the fact he was still a child.

"Okay, if I'm stuck here at least _do_ something with me," Alfred groaned.

"Entertain yourself, Alfred," Arthur said monotone as his eyes scanned pages and pages.

"Come on, Iggy!" Alfred whined in reply.

Arthur could have sworn his eye twitched at the name. It'd been _years_ since he'd heard it.

"Don't call me that!" he shouted.

"Artie?"

"That either!"

"Hmm… Kirky?"

"Stop taunting me! You've never even called me that before!"

"Just thought of it," the younger man grinned.

Arthur turned away from him and he could have sworn steam was coming out of his ears. _This_ was why they lost touch. They were nothing alike. They couldn't be friends if they tried. In life, you gain and lose many "friends" and Alfred was on the "lose" side of that.

"Oh come on you haven't talked to me in years and you've hardly said a sentence to me," Alfred complained.

"I've said more than enough and so have you," Arthur argued.

"You used to talk to me a lot more than this."

"I'm not who I used to be!"

"Obviously."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you're—"

"Never mind! Don't say it!"

"…much more stiff than you used to be."

"You don't listen to a _word_ I say do you?"

"You, listen, a, I, you? What?"

"Oh my God, _Alfred_!"

Arthur threw his book and hit Alfred's shoulder. Alfred started laughing, not paying any attention to the novel that just bounced off his body. Now that Arthur looked at him, he realized his eyes looked bluer since he started wearing glasses.

Alfred had finally quieted down and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

"See, _now_ you're fun," Alfred said.

Arthur huffed, his cheeks puffed out and a flustered blush dusted across his cheeks. He crossed his arms and sat back against the wall.

"You only think it's fun because you're teasing me. I bet you can't go an hour without it," Arthur challenged.

"Can too!"

Arthur sighed, not having the energy to point out he wasn't trying to make a bet.

"Okay, new game," Alfred declared. "We take turns saying things that are different about the other."

Arthur eyed the boy skeptically before sitting up straighter and nodding.

"Fine," he said gruffly. "You're taller."

Alfred laughed. "No duh! Hmm… You're… voice is deeper."

Arthur gazed more intently at his former friend. "Glasses suit you."

"Your eyes are greener than I remember."

"Your face looks more mature."

Alfred had to narrow his eyes, taking in Arthur's "new" appearance.

"Your body is more… Manly?"

Arthur couldn't stifle his laugh. "Manly? Me?"

"What? It's true!" a soft blush scattered over Alfred's cheek bones.

"Fine, fine," Arthur waved. "I suppose you look more _manly_ as well."

Alfred puffed out his cheek, poking Arthur's face before his eyes turned more thoughtful and the poke turned into a stroke.

"Your skin is softer," he said almost dreamily.

Arthur's eyes widened in shock before his own blush spread across his face.

"And your eyes are prettier," Alfred's hand moved to Arthur' hair. "And your hair is silky."

"A-Alfred?" Arthur stuttered, leaning backwards.

He didn't say that he skipped two turns, and the last one didn't indicate a difference.

"You're really cute when you blush," Alfred was in a daze now. "And your half-British accent is really funny."

"W-What are you saying?" Arthur sputtered, his blush deepening.

Why was Alfred saying all of these things?

Alfred seemed to move closer, to which Arthur moved backwards, promptly falling off the bed. Blinking a few times, Alfred realized he was looking down at Arthur now, climbing off the bed and joining him on the floor.

"I told you you couldn't go an hour without teasing me," Arthur grumbled, his blush refusing to die down.

"I wasn't teasing you!"

"You were too!"

"Was not!"

"Then what were you trying to say?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Exactly!"

"Well that doesn't mean I wasn't serious!"

"So you do think those things about me?"

"No! I mean—Yes! Or—I don't know! Why are you so worked up about this anyways?"

"I'm not!"

"Your face is all red!"

"Because you're making me flustered!"

"How is that my fault?"

"Because you're the one that said the bloody things!"

Their voices rose and the arguments continued. Arthur didn't know why every single conversation with this man ended in an argument. He hardly remembered why they were bickering anymore. He didn't even—Wait. _What_ did he just say?

"You're the one the one that stopped talking to me in the first place!" Arthur shouted without any sense of mind.

"I could argue the same! You just became anti-social and stopped talking to me just because I made new friends!"

"Your new friends were bloody morons!"

"Did you want me to just dump them? What did you want me to do?!"

"KISS ME!"

And within a minute Alfred had pushed Arthur down on the ground. Arthur hadn't even the mind to realize what he'd said before he found his lips being devoured by foreign ones— _that felt so good against his own_—and his eyes widened in shock. Why had he said that? Where had that come from? Why did Alfred oblige so quickly—_and so well_—and easily?

Arthur felt lost in ecstasy and the control of his body was lost as his hands wandered up and entangled in Alfred's hair. Perhaps this was more of a love story?

No, Arthur still had yet to admit to it.

Alfred pulled away, and though he did so, his face still hovered above Arthur's. The two were panting heavily and Arthur's hands fell from Alfred's hair and down his arms. The animalistic glint in Alfred's eye was dissipating slowly and he realized his place.

"W-We just…" he started slowly to be returned with Arthur's equal paced nod. "And are we… What are we?"

Arthur's voice was hoarse and his response took a while, "I don't know."

Alfred laughed humorlessly.

"I've liked you for a while, you know," he admitted.

Alfred liked him? As a friend. Of course he meant as a friend.

"Do you want to… Go out some time?" Alfred asked with a cheesy smile.

…What?

Arthur's alarm clock was screwed up. He should have woken up by now.

Seeing as this was a dream, Arthur took all risks.

With a strong arm, Arthur grabbed Alfred's shirt and pulled him roughly down into another kiss. It didn't last nearly as long as the last and Arthur released him after but a few seconds. His head nodded as a blush bloomed across his cheeks.

Alfred's grin widened.

And so you see, this was not a love story at all. Arthur is merely dreaming. However, he never seemed to wake up no matter how many times he pinched himself. That was just a minor setback. Because just because he wasn't sleeping, it doesn't mean he wasn't living a dream.

* * *

**Wow this turned out longer than I intended...**

**Anyways, this was a gift-fic for NanaMii148 for being my 100th reviewer on His Frozen Fingertips! She requested USUK without angst XD I HAVE ATTEMPTED! Sorry if it sucked I never write things like this... I guess it was a cool change :3 **

**To be clear though: No. This whole story was NOT a dream. Didn't know if the ending was a little confusing XD**

**I hope you liked it! Reviews?**


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